


Best Laid

by en passant (corinthian)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Sex, a somewhat complicated and unusual sexual arrangement kind of relationship, post-apoc au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6183679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinthian/pseuds/en%20passant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world ends and there are unlikely alliances and even more unlikely bedfellows.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Some people wanted Zero/Tsubaki so this happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid

Before the world ended, Tsubaki was going to be a doctor. Or maybe a lawyer. Or a doctor-lawyer. Maybe he would have had a double-degree, or a triple major and two minors. His whole life had been ahead of him. Instead, the oceans boiled and the earth split and everything was chaos.

Still, he excelled. Tsubaki was part of the evacuation efforts, the recovery efforts, an integral part in the survivor's camps. He was congratulated, praised, depended on. _Herculean efforts again, we would be lost without you._ That was the kind of praise he wore around his neck.

Whoever he would have been didn't matter, all of the traits that he had before — hardworking, talented, perfect — were remade as who he was now. It was easy. It was simple. Tsubaki was perfection, and so everything went according to plan.

* * *

The summer rains came and brought their share of difficulties.

The camp flooded, people got sick, what little farming and livestock they had rounded up after the apocalypse was ruined. What had been an indpendent camp, a group of survivors that were as close as family, self-sustaining and proud to stand together, needed to reach out.

It was not an easy process. Every survivor camp had its own way of doing things — some better than others — and none of them trusted anyone else. After all, in the immediate months after the world had ended, people had been cruel and callous, or in denial. Mistakes had been made. In some ways, that had been worse than the splitting of the earth and loss of life as everyone had known it. Humanity revealings its ugly face was something none of them would forget.

Anyway, that was what people told each other when they were hostile in this time of need.

But in the end, two disparate camps pooled their resources and grudgingly unified. Or, at least, an attempt was made.

* * *

Their first meeting is auspicious. In a way.

Tsubaki, the best of the best, is patrolling the perimeter. Even though they have invited the other camp in — met in neutral territory with their respective caravans — there is still the danger of bandits and other unsavory characters skulking about.

It isn't odd that Tsubaki notices something amiss — he is the most observant, the most dedicated, he is never wrong.

"There's no point in hiding." He challenges.

The rogue that reveals himself steps into view too easily. Both hands are raised, but he looks far too relaxed.

"I really gave myself away, letting my dislike for you get ahead of me."

"Who are you? State your business."

"You know, they say not to trust a guy with clean hands in the apocalypse."

Tsubaki's teeth set. He's too well behaved to scowl, just yet.

"And it's obvious that no one should trust a thief and scoundrel, no matter if it's during, before or after the apocalypse." Tsubaki shoots back.

"That sounds a bit paranoid to me."

"Hm, does it. We might consider it a necessary precaution against unsavory characters."

Two things happen at once. They decide, mutually, entirely of their own accord and yet entirely in synchronization, that they dislike the other. This is the first thing. 

If left to their own devices in that moment, something regrettable may have happened.

It's only natural for Tsubaki, who defends and protects and always operates at the highest level would see to remove an impediment, a blemish. And it is only natural that their opposing natures would conflict. It would have been a truly devastating first meeting, since in the end, they are allies.

Instead, it starts raining. Pouring. Tsubaki shifts, stands beneath a larger tree branch to stay more dry. The other man does the opposite, stands more out in the open, face tilting slight upwards, but not breaking eye contact.

"What a cold welcome for one of your new allies." He says, and Tsubaki only barely hears him over the sound of water faling on leaves. "Hardly fitting of someone with such _clean_ hands. Or is it that you're afraid something will stain you?"

Tsubaki feels the chill of the weather acutely, but he laughs, light and playful. "Afraid? You must have misread the mood."

"That face you're wearing right now, I wonder what it would be like, if someone tore it down. What would be beneath?"

"Something you'll never get to see."

In the end, nothing comes of this meeting — except for Zero's low long laugh and Tsubaki's accidental admission that something else was beneath his smile.

* * *

The next three meetings they have are far more fruitful, in a way.

One — 

"Ah, so you're Zero, what an appropriate name for a man who has nothing, is nothing and will become nothing."

"Isn't that something from 'Tsubaki' isn't that a kind of a bird and an action?"

"You're entirely wrong!"

Two —

Zero catches Tsubaki's wrists — foul play, sneak attack, in the end it's all the same — and brings his hands up above his head. He leans in, almost affectionate and almost intimate.

"Isn't this compromising?" Zero asks.

"Unhand me, before I break you in two." Is Tsubaki's response.

"I noticed, you're the only person here who's more unfortunate than me."

Zero's thumb rubs against the inside of Tsubaki's wrists. His fingers twitch. He doesn't, yet, pull to break away.

"What makes you say that?"

"What's worse than a wretch?" Zero asks, but graciously leans even closer. His lips are almost at Tsubaki's skin — Tsubaki would be able to tear into his throat with his teeth, if he chose to.

"Ah, the answer must be you." There's no strain to his voice, he's proud of how collected he's stayed. Rooted and strong against this, that's what he thinks.

"Why don't I crack you open and we can both find out? The wretch beneath the wretch."

Tsubaki shoves him away, to cover the shiver. There are two types of fear, he's grown up with. The kind that comes from being powerless and the one that comes from being controlled.

Three — 

The rain again. Flooding is bound to come their way, so they pack up camp. It's easier with more hands and neither of the two newly merged groups of survivors can argue that it was a poor alliance. The water and the cool air makes Tsubaki's hands grow numb, but he's always one who has believed in mind over matter.

Where there is a will, there's a way.

So, he just wills his hands to continue untying tent pegs, carrying the long heavy slats used for the mobile lean-tos and to fold the tarps. The last of the pull-wagons are packed and he's left standing in the trails they left behind.

"Staying behind? Or is this a perfect rear guard?" Zero, with his terrible timing, appears at Tsubaki's side. 

"It was a pleasant afternoon," Tsubaki begins.

"Until I came along, yes, there's no need to finish that statement. I'm making an offer."

"That seems out of character for you."

"Let me put your mind at ease," Zero cups his hands around Tsubaki's — that he had been holding in front of him, clasped together to prevent them from shivering — leans in and blows warm air over them. "Breaking the fingers of a frozen corpse doesn't do much for me. It's really more about the pain and the spilling of blood, that's where my preferences are."

The feeling returns to the back of his hands first, where Zero's palms rest gently. Then to the center of his hands and finally to his fingertips. Zero releases his hands, then. Tsubaki shakes them out, straightens up. The rain lets up, as if on cue. It's all very suspicious and leaves him feeling tense.

"Saving something for later?" Tsubaki asks.

"The best is always saved for last."

* * *

Before the world ended, Tsubaki had a reasonable girlfriend. They had been middle school sweethearts first, then dated in high school. He can hardly recall her face, now, but she had been kind. She liked reading and was hoping to get into business school. They very well could have become a power couple.

He doesn't think she died. It seems far more likely that she made it out, fled to the country like everyone else and is leading a camp similar to the one he supports. That's how he thinks of her, when he does.

(Zero knows exactly what happened to the people he knew before the apocalypse, it's best left a secret, however.)

* * *

The first time, in the rain, again. Tsubaki's jacket, shirt, undershirt, all soaked, the belt around his hips digging into his skin, riding up over the top hem of his trousers. He pushes Zero against the tree first, in anger, his forearm pressing across his throat in a choke-bar.

"Excitable, aren't you?" Zero asks, his smirk grows into a wolfish grin, "Cocky, even? Don't start something you can't finish."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Tsubaki's anger, this time, comes out. He doesn't hide his anger, the rage swells across his face and he feels his expression bloat.

"Usually, the other way around, but to get you to show me this? It might be worth it. What a face you're wearing right now, if you could see a mirror it might horrify you a little."

"You must have difficulty seeing out of one eye, this face is nothing out of the ordinary," Tsubaki's tense reply is nothing more than an attempt to regain his own control. Zero tilts his head back, a little, and even though it shows more of his neck it does nothing to make Tsubaki feel more in power.

If anything it just highlights their differences anymore. Tsubaki, feeling undone as if there was something he couldn't continue to carry, dressed in layers and unable to pull the anger from his face. Zero, in the single open jacket, old jeans, hands empty and seeming to have not a care in the world.

"I'l give you a free shot, let yourself go this once and if you don't start to crave it then you win. How's that?" To sweeten the pot, he adds, "It won't do anyone any good if you crumble. How embarrassing that would be, even more humiliating than coming undone just this once, hm? Let's see how far you can go."

It's a challenge, Tsubaki tells himself. If he pushes back against Zero enough, he'll shove him through the tree, tear into his back with the bark, consider the thoughtless action just catharsis. It's his mouth on Zero first — not quite a kiss, not quite a bite, just a point of aggression, his teeth on Zero's neck. Then it's Zero's hands on his belt, grabbing and twisting it, the leather edge biting into his skin more. They press together clumsily and Tsubaki allows Zero to continue speaking a stream of vile things into his ear. He digs his teeth into skin, muffles his own voice and thinks about how Zero's neck is probably unwashed, filthy, that the taste of rainwater must also carry with it traces of dirt and blood.

The heaviness of the clothes and the rainwater is cold and hot in turn, the rough fabric chafes and Zero is hardly kind in his strokes. Sometimes he uses his hands, but his raised knee also jams up against Tsubaki. He's determined that his limits won't be breached and in the end, he doesn't say anything, even when Zero asks him to beg for it. Neither of them undresses and when Zero feels the warm wetness of Tsubaki's mess through the cloth of both of their clothes, different from the stagnant rain, he lets go and Tsubaki stumbles to his knees.

"Pathetic," Zero murmurs, lightly pats his fingers against Tsubaki's cheek. It's not even a slap. "That wasn't hard at all, was it?"

Even under the rain, with the mud and water and mess dragging him down, Tsubaki feels oddly light. Even with his hair plastered across his forehead and down his back, lifting his head to meet Zero's gaze is no burden.

* * *

It may have been July. Tsubaki vaguely remembers July being humid and warm. He remembers the debates between sandals, flip-flops, shorts or cropped pants. There is some distant memory that has to do with swimming pools, lifeguards, summer jobs and looking presentable. In a different city, where there was move pavement than gravel and dirt, that was what the summer had been.

For them, now, it was hot and difficult to find water and his hands had become blistered from stripping bark from the few pieces of young wood they found to bend for housing. Zero had tsked, asked if Tsubaki had really been so desperate that he'd rubbed all the skin off his hands — if he had been in _such_ need, then he should have come to Zero, after all.

It's Zero's belt they use to tie his hands. A promise to relieve burdens, a mocking reprimand that if he abuses his hands there will be nothing left for Zero to do for him. Tsubaki only moderately argues against it, some part of his chest chills and cools at the thought. The July heat is suddenly nothing against his skin as Zero ties his hands at his lower back.

"Are you going to behave?" Zero asks the question they both know the answer to.

"I'm always on my best behaviour." Tsubaki replies, almost brightly, "It's you who I worry about. Such an aimless, worthless human."

"Your best behavior isn't really good enough at all. I'll give you this warning now, you're going to suffer." But Tsubaki's brightness has nothing on Zero's unrestrained glee. He traces his hand up Tsubaki's spine, fingers outline each vertebrae with gentle care until he reaches Tsubaki's neck then he cradles the back of his skull and slams him face first down into the dirt. A small rock cuts into Tsubaki's cheek and his yelp, followed by a gasp, draws dust into his lungs and gravel into his mouth. He bites his tongue. His lip splits a little. He has to shut his eyes. Zero's hand on the back of his head feels too heavy and vicelike and even though his legs aren't bound they kick out uselessly, finding nothing to leverage against to stand. The belt around his wrists holds tight.

He realizes as Zero positions him easily, that he's helpless. The chill that had been seated in his chest travels down his limbs. He can't stop thinking that he's better than this.

"Apologize." Zero intones, softly.

"To you? Ehh. . ." Tsubaki replies, though his voice sounds strange to his own ears. It is even more strange to feel Zero's other hand at his hip, then at the curve of his back and then finally between his legs.

"You do understand how the game is played, don't you?" Zero asks, his fingertips just barely against Tsubaki's inner thigh.

"Oh, perfectly." Tsubaki breathes.

It's an agreement, permission, a contract that they had begun earlier.

Zero laughs. His laughter shakes his body and he presses Tsubaki's face into the ground, harder. "Then don't complain, as I take care of you. Unless that complaining is to beg."

It's unexpected. Tsubaki never sees his face, this time. Instead he feels Zero's mouth on his blistered hands, soft kisses and sucking that leaves his skin feeling overexposed in the summer air. He feels Zero's hands, tearing at his hair, leaving bruises and scratches across his back and hips. A circle of fingers around him, then nails that draw down his length and tease and torture but don't offer release. Twice, he almost goes over the edge, before Zero pulls him back and brutally holds him still. Tsubaki's knees drag across the ground and bleed and it's only when he whines — wordlessly, still refusing to plea — that Zero releases him. 

It's the same as before. He completely lets go and leaves Tsubaki to buck and roll in his own climax. And Tsubaki, on his side with his chest heaving, feeling all at once everything cell in his body and yet nothing at all can't recognize the emotion on Zero's face at all.

* * *

Zero's hand tastes like pine and woodrot. The forest they had been traveling through was old and waterlogged and even in the autumn after a dry summer retained its moisture. Zero's fingers shove deep into Tsubaki's mouth, one finger pressing down on his tongue, the rest spreading and invading. He chokes and Zero helps him choke more, his other hand pulling hard on his hair to yank his head back. Tsubaki's throat fills with salive and it feels as though Zero intends to reach down deep inside him.

He gags, halfway vomits up into his own throat, tastes it at the back of his mouth and pitches forward. Tsubaki grasps at Zero's wrist and for the first time had he been able to, he may have begged. For a moment, he is certain that he will die. His chest burns and then Zero pushes him down.

There is a stick between his shoulderblades. It's there by accident, because neither of them looked down at where they landed. Tsubaki can feel it, a small steady pressure against his back, it's more real than the rest of the forest floor. He's tilted too far back, his feet over Zero's shoulders and even though his hands are free they don't balance him at all. The blood rushes to his head and he scrabbles around for something to hold onto but only finds dirt and moss.

He can't catch his breath. And Zero doesn't bother to tease him, instead it's one hand on his ass and one on his cock and all too soon Tsubaki comes undone. It's fast and brutal and his own mess oozes down his stomach and splatters on his face. 

Zero doesn't release him, this time, instead he leans down, bending Tsubaki over, inspects his face.

"You have tears in your eyes." Zero says, "There's junk on your face, in your hair. You're a mess, hardly fit for anything, to carry any duty or burden. All your appearances are for nothing. This is you with everything torn away, it's an embarrassment, isn't it?"

Perhaps it's because he still can't breath, because he's spent and exhausted, but the words don't mean anything to him. The overwhelming weight of who he is and what has happened — the world that they've been struggling against to carry forward, even after it's become a ruin — couldn't touch him.

And he realizes too exactly what Zero gets out of this. He almost laughs, but because of Zero's weight over him and the pressure on his ribcage he can't. Instead the knowledge sits in his throat, like a warm pocket of air, leaving him lightheaded.

* * *

Before the world ended, Tsubaki couldn't really if he had ever been happy or unhappy. It would be far too simple to say that after the world ended he understood himself better and certainly far too generous to give those accolades to those around him.

The point is more that things change and sometimes plans get disrupted.

**Author's Note:**

> If you were wondering about Zero's "joke" — "Tsubaki" is close to "Tsubame" which is "swallow" (the bird) — and hopefully you can fill in the double meaning from there. It's a bad joke but I made myself laugh.


End file.
